


it sure would be prettier with you

by kitnkabootle



Category: Mum (TV 2016)
Genre: BBC, British, F/M, Lesley Manville, Peter Mullen - Freeform, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitnkabootle/pseuds/kitnkabootle
Summary: A collection of short one-shot fics about the budding relationship between Cathy and Michael and other requests.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy these stories and they read as in character for you. Each chapter is a new story. These will be rife with spoilers so watch the series before you read them.

The fireworks have long since gone out and only a faint smell of smoke lingers in the crisp night air. Mostly everyone’s gone home and Michael is cleaning up the garden when Cathy finally manages to close the door behind Derek and Pauline and joins him outside.

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” Cathy says as she watches Michael pick up a half-emptied packaged of hobnobs from the lawn.

He smiles and looks down at it then back at her, still feeling her hand within his despite them having let go over an hour ago.

“I guess I best be on my way too, so you can turn in,” Michael says though he doesn’t move.

Instead he just watches Cathy folding up a chair and he feels such overwhelming happiness that he can hardly contain the smile that twitches at his lips. Her words on the upstairs landing still play on a constant loop inside of his head and he wishes he could have had the foresight to record her saying them. Just when all hope for any restoration of normalcy to their relationship had seemed lost, she went and changed everything. Words he couldn’t even imagine her saying to him, words he would have longed to hear if he’d ever thought she could feel that way about him — all there, spilling from her very own perfect mouth.

Cathy stops, hands pausing on the chairs she is stacking against the siding. She lets the last one fall with a small clank as she wipes her hands down the front of her purple woolen jumper.

“Oh? Okay,” she says around a tight smile, the tension between them still without much relief despite the upstairs landing tell-all.

Michael’s face falls almost imperceptibly and he walks towards the back door where she is standing. He doesn’t know whether he might do well to lean in for a hug, or if it will be too much for her. Instead he lifts his hand in what can only be described as a painfully awkward half-wave.

“I, well I guess…” Michael takes a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts and put them into some kind of order under Cathy’s attentive gaze, “Well, you know look, I don’t want things between us to change. Well, I obviously want them to change, but I mean — not like that. Not like this. I just, I…”

Cathy’s eyes are glassy and so bewitchingly blue at their proximity, lit only by the dim backlight and Michael wishes if only for a moment in all of his life he could have been good with words.

He sighs softly, “What I’m tryin’ to say Cath, is that we do need to talk I think, and properly. Not here with the noise and the interruptions. No Kelly, no Jason, no Pauline…” he chuckles as he recalls so many missed opportunities having been caused by the constant stream of visitors in Cathy’s home.

He shakes his head, “Really it’s like the bloody underground in that kitch—“

But he doesn’t finish because Cathy has gone and stood on her toes and pressed her mouth against his and they are kissing for the very first time.

Cathy Walker, his best mate’s widow and consequently the woman he’s been in love with since the moment he met her, is kissing him and he can smell her faint perfume and feel the slightness of her petite figure as he wraps his arms around her tiny waist.

When their lips part, he can see her eyes are still red and glassy and knows from the moisture on his own cheek that his are as well.

They both know that there is much at stake. It will be scary, and hard, and messy but they’ll get through it, somehow, and it won’t be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> middleagedcurves asked:  
> Mum prompt: someone threatens Cathy and then Michael shows up and saves the day

Michael sits in the car looking at the rain rolling down the window pane. He watches it gather for what feels like hours before switching the car on and clearing some of it away with the windscreen wipers. He peers between the swishing blades at the restaurant, for what is now probably the 90th time in ten minutes. 

It’s late and he knows he had offered to wait for Cathy at the station and that she’d told him she’d be alright taking a cab back. Still, he doesn’t want her taking the train by herself at this hour, especially not after meeting some stranger for the first time. He’s beginning to think she’s already left and is making to ease away from the curb across the street when he sees a flash of blue coming out of the restaurant door.

It’s Cathy, of course, and for a moment he’s reminded of how striking she is. How in all the people plodding along in front of the restaurant, of all the women in high heels and revealing dresses in spite of the rain, Cathy is the standout. 

She’s standing in her blue dress and tan colored blazer beneath the awning of the restaurant when he realizes she’s not brought a coat. He reaches for the door handle, but then stops himself. He’s not her keeper and she’s not expecting him. It would be a bit weird to pop over with a jacket now, here at the restaurant where Cathy is accompanied by a bloke who’s now stood a little too closely to her.

Michael presses the automatic window lever and lowers the window a bit, listening for whatever he can hear, but it isn’t much save for the noise of the city and the patter of rain. He watches them, finding he can’t look away. He wonders, as the man reaches for Cathy’s hand, how the ‘it’s not a date’ has gone. Wonders if the man has been charming, thoughtful and if he’s exactly what Cathy needed at this point in her life. 

He sees Cathy retract her hand, smiling at the man and then watches as the man — Brian was it — slides his hands around her waist. Michael’s face falls as he feels his heart pummel in his chest. He looks into his lap, knows this is a private moment and that he shouldn’t be intruding. He can’t help it. He can’t help his eyes returning to the scene, returning to watch Cathy’s response to the gesture.

He sees her smile tighten, sees her reach her hands up to try to ease him back away from her and he wonders if maybe the date hasn’t gone as he’d initially suspected. He notices Cathy’s hands are still on the man’s arms minutes later, and that he’s leaning over her and she’s leaning backwards and it’s looking to be getting a little out of hand.

It’s only when the man’s lips meet Cathy’s turned away cheek, and Michael sees a look of fear flash in her eyes that he’s up and out of the car and crossing it without any thought to the traffic.

“Brian please,” he hears Cathy say when he makes it to the pair. He doesn’t give it a second thought as he calls her name.

Cathy looks up in surprise from being crushed against Brian and Michael smiles at her reassuringly, “I wonder if you were going to stand me up, we were supposed to have dinner. Who’s this guy?”

Brian slowly loosens his grip on Cathy and looks at Michael awkwardly. Cathy uses the moment to step back away from him, standing behind Michael as he edges his way between them.

“I’m Brian, Cathy’s d—”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Brian, and I hate to cut in so rudely here, but Cathy and I were going to have dinner and I would really rather it be just the two of us, hope that’s alright?” Michael asks, and he stands squarely between them now, removing his coat and wrapping it around Cathy’s petite shoulders before turning back to the man.

“Oh well, Cathy and I weren’t yet—”

“Oh I think you were mate,” Michael says and he claps his hand on the man’s shoulder firmly, his eyes void of warmth and it’s all he can do to keep from punching the guy right there in the street.

“Oh I … Cathy?” he asks and Cathy looks out from behind Michael, wrapped now in the warmth of the jacket that is vastly oversized for her.

Cathy nods slowly and Michael can feel the press of her hand to his back. It’s all the reassurance he needs.

“Look, I think you best be going there and I wouldn’t text Cathy again if you don’t want an answer from me.”

Brian looks between them, nods, then scampers off under Michael’s unfaltering stare. When he’s finally disappeared, tripping over his own feet along the way, Michael turns to Cathy.

“Are you alright, Cath?”

“Yes, yes. He’s just… well it turns out—” Cathy’s eyes pinken and grow watery as she looks up at him, “– turns out he hasn’t lost his wife at all.”

Michael’s eyes soften with empathy, “Oh, I’m sorry,”

Cathy’s blue eyes pool with tears until her dark lashes close over them and she leans forward against him. Michael holds her in an embrace, not caring that the rain is soaking through his clothes and the soles of his shoes.

After a moment he leads her across the street with caution, holds open the car door for her and makes sure she is seated within before closing it and rushing around to the driver’s side. 

“I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot, Cathy. If anything it was me that told you that you should give the guy a chance,” Michael says softly, “besides you can’t have predicted that the man would be a right wanker, now could you?”

Cathy sniffles, but a smile spreads across her lips at that and she looks to Michael as if suddenly realizing how odd it was that he was there, “Were you—?”

“I thought you might need a lift,” he answers before she can finish the question.

Cathy smiles, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know.”

“Me neither,” he answers, eyes crinkling, “A cab would be very expensive.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:   
> prompt: They are secretly together and then Jason, Kelly walk in on them :D

“– and after my foot came back awake, I never really could walk the same.” Kelly closes the car door and takes her lucky rock laden suitcase from the uber driver. 

She watches Jason answering one of his WhatsApp’s and smiles, “Aww babe you are so productive, getting to those messages already and we’ve only been back a couple of hours.”

Jason grins, “I’m down to only four now.”

“That’s amazing!” Kelly beams, rolling her suitcase towards the front door, “I can’t wait to see Cathy. Do you think she missed me?”

“Of course,” Jason rolls along slowly behind her, distracted by his phone, “–only three now. I’m quite good at this.”

“You’re amazing babe!” Kelly turns her key in the lock, leaving Jason behind on the landing as she steps into the comfort of Cathy’s home and the familiar smells of freshly cut flowers, washing up liquid and Cathy’s perfume.

She hears a crash in the kitchen and runs towards it, abandoning her case in the hall and Jason who is still standing on the drive trying to select the right emoji for his text.

“Cathy?” Kelly calls out as she pushes through the door and is surprised when it’s not Cathy she immediately sees, but Michael, pale and bug-eyed, his shirt askew and somehow managing to look more unkempt than usual.

“Kelly–” he smiles, “back so soon?” 

“Soon?” Kelly’s nose crinkles, “It’s been ages Michael. We’ve been gone for four days! Seems like we’ve been gone a year. What are you doing here?”

“Helping!” Michael answers much too quickly, then he steps back and looks around, picking up what looks to be Cathy’s blouse from the kitchen counter.

“Isn’t that–”

“Yeah Cathy needed help with…” he fumbles with the blouse and Cathy’s bra falls from the tangle of it to the floor between them, “… the ironing.”

“Oh,” Kelly answers, leaning over to pick up the lace bra, holding it by one strap, “Can you iron these?”

Michael’s skin flushes 8 shades of scarlet and he leaves Kelly with the bra, doing his best to look like he knows how to fold a silky woman’s blouse on the counter top.

“Is Cathy in?” Kelly asks, turning around to head for the door but Michael rushes forward to stand in the way of the exit.

“Yes, I think… think she’s upstairs getting changed. Uhh I just – how was your vacation?” he asks, leaning as casually as he can in front of the closed kitchen door.

Kelly looks only momentarily confused before it gives way to a smile, “It was really nice. Yeah, I loved it. They had those trees from Hollywood there and everything, and it was like being in a film. Did you know –”

Michael allows a sigh of relief to escape his lips as Kelly drones on about flip flops and how they hurt her toes and for once he is glad for one of her never-ending non-sequiturs.

– 

Meanwhile Jason finally rolls his case with a smack over the threshold feeling chuffed that he’s caught up with his texts. 

He’s unplugging his mum’s phone from the charger and plugging his in instead when suddenly Cathy rushes by from the living room, arms crossed over her chest, and it is only when he watches her ascending the stairs that he notices she is nude from the waist up.

“Hi love, I’ll only be a minute,” she calls out behind her and Jason stands confused in the hall as he watches her disappear onto the upstairs landing.

Just then, Kelly pushes the kitchen door open, holding his mother’s bra up, “Look Jason, Michael’s helping Cathy with the ironing!”

_**[I’ve got my ticket for the long way around  
Two bottles of whiskey for the way]** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> cathy and michael going to a garden centre and looking like a married couple

 

“What about these ones?” Michael is sitting in a wicker chair surrounded by a sea of other garden furniture that they’ve no doubt seen before in the litany of garden centres they’d been in on the hunt for the perfect new chairs.

Cathy looks at the chair and smiles at him, “they are rather nice, those,” and upon further inspection, she nods, “yes I think those will do nicely, don’t you?”

“You mean we’ve found them at last?” Michael asks, referring to the fact that they’d been to four different garden centres in search and come up empty handed.

Cathy smiles, though it isn’t entirely genuine and Michael suddenly realizes that finding the actual chairs will mean they won’t have an excuse to take these weekend afternoons together.

When Cathy briefly looks away, Michael with only mild guilt, swaps the tag with a nearby barbecue’s and looks up at Cathy, “Oh these ones are a bit overpriced,” he says and Cathy walks back over to look.

“600 pounds for a garden chair?” she exclaims, looking up at him incredulously.

Michael nods, “I think that’s more for Pauline’s lot, don’t you?”

Cathy chuckles, “You’re right about that.”

“Would be worth it if they came with loose back legs, next time she was over,” Michael says and Cathy erupts into a fit of laughter as they both remember the tumble Pauline took at the last garden party.

“Excuse me, do you need any help with finding anything?” A chirpy woman wearing a vest with a name badge pops around the corner and looks at the two of them giggling.

“No no, we’re fine.” Cathy wipes the wears of laughter from her face.

“Oh, well just to let you know the garden chair your husband is seated in is on sale this weekend for forty quid.”

The woman smiles pleasantly and is gone not too long after, but neither of them notice for the laughter has been replaced with a kind of reflective silence.

Michael’s the first to speak, “Forty quid – must be the wrong tag on here. That’s a bit more reasonable,” he says, standing up and looking back at it to avoid looking anywhere but at Cathy. Cathy hasn’t noticed the swap.

“She called you my husband,” she says quietly behind him and he turns around to look at her.

“Yeah,” Michael answers. The silence stretches between them and Cathy is looking at him and he at her for what seems like ages.

“Guess she doesn’t know how annoying I find you,” Michael says finally to lighten the mood, smiling at her.

Cathy smiles back though she continues to look at him, “Do you want to come back to mine for a coffee?”

Michael nods then gestures to the chairs, “Want me to carry these to the front? Can’t beat forty quid on chairs you actually like.”

Cathy shakes her head, “No, actually. No I don’t think they are exactly right. I think I need to keep looking.”

Michael feels relief wash over him at her words.

“Well I guess next weekend we’ll want to try the new one that’s opened up near the station by the pizza express.”

Cathy’s smile is bright and genuine, “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

Then, once more, they make their way out of yet another garden centre without any chairs and neither could be happier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> snoop-maggy-mag writes:  
> Easter au where Pauline and Derek didn't interupt them. And they listen to Graceland and get drunk :)))
> 
> Also incorporating this ->
> 
> anonymous writes:  
> Michael looking after Cathy when she’s very drunk (and very flirty!)

"I don't seem to remember you dancing quite like that," Michael grins from his place on the floor next to a box of miscellaneous items that Cathy has decided needs chucking.

Cathy looks up over the bridge of her glasses from the various board games on the table she's standing beside, "I suppose it's my age. Although I don't know that I ever looked anything but mildly silly dancing anyways, even in those days."

“I remember you being a fine dancer,” Michael shakes his head, puts another book in the box and quickly adds, “Dave used to comment on it."

"He did?" Cathy removes her glasses, folds them in her hand.

"Aye. All the time. Really liked the way you moved your hips."

"My hips?" Cathy laughs gently, but looks uncertain.

"You've got 'the best hips since Tina Turner'," he mimicked Dave, poorly, and that got another smile from the petite brunette across the room.

"You know," she says, sitting down on the sofa, "it's silly, but it feels really nice, to think about him and talk about him."

Michael stands, places the rest of the pile into the box and walks towards her as though he might join her but at the last minute he stays standing instead.  
“That's not silly at all. Dave was a good man Cathy, and he loved you very much. He talked about you incessantly."

When Cathy begins to tear up, Michael's face falls and he hastily adds, "It was annoying really. Had to keep a steady stream of beer in his hand just to get through the evening."

Cathy smiles at that and wipes at her eyes.

"Would you like another?" Michael gestures to the empty wine glass on the table beside them and Cathy nods. He brings the bottle over and pours the rest of it into her glass.

"We may need to open another the way we're going," Michael says but Cathy is staring off distractedly and doesn't answer.

"You alright, Cath?" he asks gently and extends her wine glass towards her.

Cathy looks up at him then, blinking rapidly as she focuses on the glass and smiles at him, "Do you remember that time... oh God when was it? Before Dave and I were married, when we were all of us staying in that little apartment by the seaside?"

Michael nods, "Yeah. That was a wild time."

"Yes," Cathy says, "and do you remember that night when Dave fell asleep cause he'd finished the last of the bottle of scotch he'd nicked from my parent's place and you and I were sat up talking?"

Michael looks down, nods again and covers the little flush of his cheeks with his wine glass as he takes a sip.

"Remember we danced?" Cathy smiles up at him.

"We did?" he says, feigning misremembering but then pretends to cotton on suddenly, "Oh yes... yes we did."

"You didn't remember? It was that song, that came on the radio. Oh now what was it..." she looks away, trying to remember.

"Into the Mystic," he offers the title almost immediately and Cathy looks up at him, startled by the sudden recollection.

"So you didn't forget," she says, taking a sip of wine through upturned lips.

"No, no. Didn't forget," he looks down at her, "we had a nice time."

Cathy nods.

Paul Simon's voice on the CD player fills the space between them and they both listen to it silently.

"I think that's the last track," Cathy remarks as it finishes.

"I think you're right."

"Don't worry, my sister showed me..." Michael says, fumbling with his mobile, "showed me how to get music on this. And I have a playlist here somewhere."

It's a few moments of navigating in and out of the wrong menus before he finds what he's looking for and presses play. Cathy's eyebrows raise when Into the Mystic begins to play on the device, midway through as it had obviously been the last song playing previously.

"Is that—?” she asks, pointing at the device.

Michael tries to find how to skip to the next song, but it merely starts again and he looks up in embarrassment, "it'll be just me not knowing how to work these rubbish things."

Cathy stands, places her wine glass on the table, "Well, now, shall we try again, thirty some odd years later?"

Michael looks up from the phone, unsure he's heard her correctly.

On the table behind her he can see her almost emptied wine glass, knows the wine has emboldened her.

"You sure?"

"Don't think you can manage it? Bones bothering you in your old age?"

Michael puts his phone down next to her wine glass and takes a breath before turning back and offering his hand, "Oh I don't know about that. Let me show you how it's done Cath."

Cathy laughs as she places her hand in his and he brings her closer. They begin swaying to the song but Michael's keeping it lighthearted as they mimic what they think they may have looked like years ago.

Cathy jokingly sways at her middle and Michael grins, "Oh be careful there Tina, you might break a hip."

Cathy hits him on the arm and he spins her around.

They both laugh and their dancing is clumsy and silly until it isn’t. Until the music overwhelms them and wraps them in the blanket of the past so that there’s been no time in between. Their dance becomes slower, more serious as the weight of their interruption free night adds a certain charge to the interaction.

It doesn't last long before the song is changed to the high pitched music of his ringtone, and they jump apart as though someone’s waltzed right into the room between them. He rushes over to it, silences it and slides it back in his pocket.

“Do you need to answer?” Cathy busies herself with dragging a chair towards the kitchen, to give Michael privacy.

“No, no, it’s an unknown number,” he says off-handedly, now to an empty room.

When Cathy returns she’s brandishing another bottle of wine, “This room looks almost done, I think we’ve earned a little more don’t you?”

Michael smiles, and offers her his glass.

 

—

 

“There you go, just one more step,” Michael says as he stands behind Cathy, one hand at the small of her back the other on the bannister as he leads her up to her bedroom.

“Oh blimey, when did we get so many stairs?” Cathy stumbles up the last step and Michael catches her with both hands around her middle to keep her from falling. He blushes at the intimacy of it, of how her small waist feels within his hands, as though he might crush her if he holds too tightly.

“Now I’m not sure but I think you might have had them from the off,” he answers, helping her through the doorway and towards her bed. He switches the side lamp on so he can see what he’s doing as he helps her sit on the side of the bed. Cathy looks up at him when she’s seated, “are you going to stay here with me?”

Michael shakes his head, “No, no, just seeing that you’re settled then I’m heading back to mine.”

Cathy lays back on the bed, sideways and he leans over, sliding an arm under her back then easing her so her head is on a pillow.

“You’re very strong Michael,” Cathy reaches up and caresses his arm, “I think you could have carried me up the stairs.”

“And if I had dropped you?” Michael knows he’s blushing and is glad she won’t remember this tomorrow.

“You wouldn’t drop me. You’d never drop me,” Cathy says wistfully.

“I’m glad you think so highly of me.”

“I do.”

Michael clears his throat, straightens and feels the loss of her hand on his arm as he moves out of reach.

“Do you think I look old Michael?” Cathy asks, eyes closed.

“Not at all,” Michael says, and he knows he shouldn’t but he also knows the wine will help erase the moment in the morning, “I think you are the most stunning woman I’ve ever known.”

Cathy’s eyes flash open and she looks up at him. For a minute he feels ice in his veins, feels he shouldn’t have said anything, wishes he’d kept his mouth shut.

But she just smiles, a broad smile that lights up her whole face, “That’s nice Michael. You’re always so nice to me.”

“You make it easy to be nice, Cath.”

Michael stands awkwardly near the bed for a few moments before reaching out and turning the bedside lamp off.

"Cuddle me?"

Cathy's voice is quiet and disembodied in the darkness and Michael stops in his tracks at the doorway. He'd love nothing more than to be invited into Cathy's bed like this, to be asked to lay beside her, to feel her body against his, even if there was nothing sexual about it. But the words come from a tongue coated with wine and he can't take advantage of that.

He steps back towards her, eases himself down to sit on the bed beside her and reaches, half fumbling in the darkness for her hand. When they finally entwine their fingers together and when his eyes eventually adjust to the darkness, he can see she's fallen asleep. He sits there for a few extra minutes, his thumb stroking the back of her hand gently until he's satisfied she won't be waking anytime soon. 

He slowly extracts his hand from hers, uses his fingers to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead. Finally, he stands and makes his way downstairs.

He cleans up their glasses, finishes the clear out and makes sure Cathy won't have a lot to do in the morning. He fills her kettle with water, places a cup beside it and two paracetamols. 

As he's putting his coat on by the doorway, he notices the picture of Dave on the wall next to the one of Cathy’s dad. 

"I promised you I'd take good care of her, mate," he says quietly, reaching forward to touch at one corner of the picture frame until it's slightly crooked, the way it's always been before the house was filled with other people who went around changing everything. 

He listens for Cathy, is satisfied by the silence in the house and quietly lets himself out.

In his car he turns on the cd player, selects track 14, the usual, and Van Morrison's voice fills the car. 

_I wanna rock your gypsy soul_  
_Just like way back in the days of old_  
_Then magnificently we will float_  
_Into the mystic_

[[To hear Cathy and Michael's song click here]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEvsDuJYEnI)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> verypersonalscreencaps:  
> a jealous Cathy :)

“What’s that photo in your wallet?” Cathy is standing next to Michael as he finishes paying for their coffee, looking down at a small square photograph set between two plastic pages.

“Photo?” The flaps of leather smack closed and he hastily tucks it into his pocket.

“Yes the umm,” Cathy gestures towards his hip, “I just… saw a photo in there, looked like a woman.”

“Photo? No. Well, I mean it is a photo,” he says picking up their coffees and carrying them to a table in the corner of the cafe, “but it’s really not important.”

Cathy settles in across from Michael at the table, wraps her fingers around the heat of the paper cup.

“I’m sorry,” she says, studying the colour on his cheek, “I really shouldn’t pry.”

“Oh no, you’re not prying—“ 

“No, I was prying. It was very rude,” Cathy answers, taking a sip of her coffee and offering him a smile.

“No it’s just —“

“What are your plans at the weekend? I was thinking I might go to Sainsburys and get a set of pots and pans if you’d like to come.”

Cathy is brightening the mood by changing the subject and Michael knows to leave it at that.

“Which day were you thinking?” Michael takes a sip of his own coffee, knows there’s nothing better he’d like to do than go pot shopping, of all things, with Cathy but that he can’t let his girls down on —

“Sunday.”

“Sunday? Oh,” Michael says looking down at the cup.

For a minute he thinks about cancelling on his daughters. It’s only a fraction of a thought, and he feels guilty for even having it but he does.

“Uhh, sorry, I … I have plans on the Sunday,” Michael says and sees Cathy’s smile begin to fall away only to be replaced by a smaller and less genuine one.

“Oh! Of course, I… well I just thought I’d ask,” Cathy takes a sip of her coffee, the conversation quickly fizzling as both continue to skirt around saying how they truly feel.

“What about Saturday?”

“Oh well I, I would love to, only I have a teacher’s get together, it’s just… oh it’s silly really,” Cathy looks up at him, “It’s really not a big deal Michael, it’s only pots.”

Michael smiles weakly, “Yeah, yeah, just pots.”

“Do you have a date?” Cathy asks the question, seemingly out of nowhere and Michael realizes it goes back to the photo in his wallet, knows that he’s coming across as secretive.

“A date—?”

“No, sorry,” Cathy winces, “that came out wrong. I mean, I hope your plans for Sunday are… are something fun, not work.”

“No, no not work,” Michael answers, “I’ve got the girls coming over.”

Cathy relaxes visibly and Michael feels the prickle of heat at the back of his neck, along his spine. 

“Oh that will be so nice for you,” Cathy smiles again and it’s genuine this time, “it must be really hard when they’re away.”

The conversation begins to fall back into their usual pattern and there’s an ease to it again, a flow that takes them over a series of topics that sees an hour fly by before they are even aware of it.

“Oh no I’ve just realized the time,” Cathy says suddenly after glancing at her mobile screen, “I’ve got to get back to the school.”

“Right, I didn’t realize,” Michael stands up, collects their coffee cups and deposits them in the recycling bin. 

“Did you need a lift back?” Michael asks and Cathy stands and looks up at him, shakes her head.

“No, it’s so close, I can probably get there faster on foot and it’s so difficult with that roundabout.”

He holds the door open for her and she makes her way outside.

Turning back to look at him she looks embarrassed and sheepish, “I just want to apologize, for earlier when I…” 

“You don’t have to apologize—“ 

“I know, but I want to. You are entitled to your privacy and I was being nosy, and I want you to know I’m sorry for that.” 

Michael reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out his wallet. He knows he shouldn’t but he also knows he can’t mislead Cathy and that he doesn’t want to keep anything from her. He flips open the leather halves, to the photo page and shows it to her. 

It’s a photo of her. 

Any words she may have used die on her lips as she sees it. She looks up at Michael and can’t find the words to formulate a response.

He smiles at her softly, “I didn’t want you thinking I was a bit weird.”

Cathy’s eyes shine with emotion, “I wouldn’t…”. 

Her eyes drift down to the photo again, then back up to meet his. 

“Nothing about you is weird.”

Michael smiles.

“You best be off or you’re going to be late,” he says finally and the spell of the moment is broken.

“Right! Well, I will… I will text you on Monday, see how your visit with the girls went,” she says as she begins to make her way along the old cobblestone walk.

“I look forward to it,” Michael says, lifting his hand in a wave. “Be careful, text me when you get back to the school so I know you got there alright.”

“It’s just two blocks away, I should be fine,” Cathy laughs.

“Even still,” he says, unlocking his car door. He climbs inside and waits until he sees her safely cross the road. Then he puts the car in reverse and makes his way home.

He receives a text as he’s getting in.

_> Thank you again for the coffee. It was really lovely. - Cathy  <_

He smiles, is about to respond when another text comes in right after.

_> I think it’s nice that you carry my photograph.  <_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamieringo asks:  
> Ryan with a Y comes around while Michael’s on self-imposed exile. He always did think that Cathy was “well fit”.

The electric kettle beeps and Cathy lifts it and pours the water over a tea bag, going for the milk in the fridge. 

It’s the first afternoon in ages that she’s had alone and all she wants to do is wrap herself in a blanket and find something good on the telly to take her mind off the fact that she hasn’t heard from Michael since he left for Spain.

She takes her mug into the living room and settles down onto the sofa. Her tea is so hot she knows it will scald her mouth so she sets it on the coffee table to cool, next to her mobile. Reaching forward she presses the button at the bottom to illuminate the screen. There are no notifications.

Sighing softly she reaches for the remote but there’s a knock at the door just as she picks it up. Briefly she wonders if she could get away with not answering, but she knows she should answer in case it’s an emergency or a delivery. With great reservation, she pushes herself up off the couch and goes to it, peering through the glass first before opening the door.

“Ryan?”

Puzzled, she looks at the young man on her step. The last time she’d seen him was when he and Debs had come over for a barbecue some months back. She’d heard afterwards from Kelly that the two had split up and she certainly hadn’t expected to see him again. Let alone that he’d turn up on his own.

“Hey,” he says, his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans, “It’s Ryan.”

Cathy blinks, “Yes, I can see that love. Kelly and Jason have gone out for afternoon if you’ve come to see them.”

“No I haven’t. I came to see you.”

Cathy feels like she’s living in some alternate reality because nothing in that sentence, specifically coming from ‘Ryan with a Y’, makes sense. But behavior that defies common sense is becoming more of a constant than anything else in her life thanks to Kelly and the frequent visits from Debs.

“Oh? Okay. Well, what can I do for you?” she asks when she recovers from the oddness of the situation.

“Can I come in?” He asks her and Cathy feels badly she hadn’t offered before being asked.

“Of course, of course Ryan.” She steps back away from the door and allows him to follow her into the entryway.

They stand together awkwardly in silence until Cathy can’t stand it anymore.

“What is it you wanted to see me about?”

“Well I broke up with Debs.

“Yes I heard that,” Cathy says gently “It’s been a little while now, hasn’t it?”

“Three months yeah.

“Right,” Cathy says, staring up at the taller man hopeful that he might actually offer some insight as to why he’s standing in her house and why he’s come to see her. He does not.

“Right, well I still don’t know—“Cathy starts but Ryan finally speaks, interrupting her.

“I couldn’t find you on Tinder.”

Her mouth hangs slightly open in surprise as her mind tries to process that statement, “I’m sorry love?”

“Tinder. Kelly said you were putting yourself on Tinder and I’ve been swiping left for ages and I never saw you on there. Even put the age limit up to 80.”

Cathy, raises her eyebrows “Okay. Well I don’t know what tinder is… or anything that you’ve said there really...”

“It’s a dating app innit? On your phone right,” Ryan answers with no more enthusiasm then anything else he ever says, “and if someone swipes right on you then that means they want to have sex with you.”

“Okay,” Cathy says shaking her head a little “I still don’t follow.”

“I was trying to find you on there so I could swipe right on you so then you’d know people wanted to have sex with you.”

“Ryan, that’s...” she forces a bright, slightly horrified smile, “that’s very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Okay,” Ryan says though he doesn’t do anything but stand and look down at her.

Another silence.

“Right well, thank you for checking on me Ryan. You’re very kind.” 

She reaches out and tries to navigate around him to the door.

“Would you want to have sex with me?”

His question hangs in the air and Cathy’s hand freezes in its reach for the knob. The one on the door.

“I—” she finally looks up at him, cheeks flame-red in embarrassment.

“It’s just I think it would be nice to try, like… an older woman? You know? I think it would nice. And you’re well fit. And since your husband is —“

“Alright Ryan, that’s enough thank you.” Cathy opens the door, for him, using it as barrier between them as she looks around it up at him.

“Oh… oh right? Okay. Well… I guess that’s —“

“Yes that’s a no,” Cathy smiles brightly up at him.

“A left swipe,” he nods and moves out on the doorstep and turns around, “If you change your mind—“ he begins as Cathy is closing the door.

She peeks around the edge, “Yes, I’ll tinder you.”

She doesn’t hear the last thing he says because she’s already shut the door, locked it and hurried back into the living room, depositing herself firmly on the sofa. 

She lets out a sigh and then can’t help but burst into laughter at the insanity of what had happened.

It’s her ringing mobile that gets her attention and when she looks at the call display she sees that it’s Michael.

She answers the phone, laughter still lighting her voice, “You’ll never guess what happened—”

Michael’s back in London the very next day.

\--


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> missbergmans said:  
> i have a request, but maybe it's too complicated? it would be set on the night michael stays at cathy's for valentine's day, but this time there's a blackout because of the storm and they end up lightning candles and perhaps reminiscing about their youth?

They’re sitting on the sofa next to one another, a pillow crumpled between them like a barrier as plates of Chinese food lay abandoned on the coffee table.

“Oh God I don’t know why I watch this, I cry every time,” Cathy says, dabbing at her watery eyes while Emma Thompson in period clothing on the telly screen does the same.

Michael looks over at her smiling, “I know it’s probably not the most manly thing to say, and this’ll be why Reg calls me a pansy, but I really liked it.”

“Did you?” Cathy sniffs and dries her cheek on her sleeve.

“Yeah, I thought it was... kind of romantic.”

“It is,” she looks at him with a reflective expression and then back to the television screen where a wedding is now taking place, “but he waited all that time and they agonized over that. I mean if he’d just said at the beginning it would have saved so much heartbreak.”

Michael looks at Cathy, his lip working silently at words he doesn’t say. He glances back to the telly just as the lights around them flicker and go out. The room is plummeted into darkness.

“Oh no,” Cathy jumps up, bumps her leg on the coffee table and grabs at it, groaning in pain.

Michael can’t see anything in the darkness but he hears the thud and Cathy’s painful cry and he reaches out to try and help. His hand connects with something soft and he hears a sharp intake of breath so he nervously retracts it, “I can’t see anything.”

“Me neither. It’ll be the storm - the power’s gone out. I have candles in the cupboard but I have to get there first.”

Cathy feels her way in the darkness along the sofa’s edge, blindly reaching in front of her for pieces of furniture, markers in the dark.

“Do you want me to try?” Michael gets up and follows her as best as he can.

“It’s alright, I know where they are,” she says just as she and Michael collide in the darkness. Both grab at the air for anything to stop their fall. They wind up on the floor and thankfully it’s Cathy that lands on top of Michael and not the other way around.

She pats around with her hand and her fingertips are suddenly wet.

“Mmmph,” Michael mumbles around them and when Cathy quickly pulls her hand back he laughs, “Ey watch it that’s my mouth.”

Cathy can’t help but laugh as well, struggling to get up but finding it difficult not being sure where to place her hands. She chances it and Michael gasps, “No, no that’s not the floor. Definitely not the floor.”

“Oh God I’m sorry Michael,” Cathy blushes furiously at that and is glad there’s no light to give away her embarrassment.

Michael just starts laughing again, harder this time, “I’m only joking.”

Cathy gasps at the cruel joke though she’s laughing as well and she swats him on what she imagines to be his shoulder. She feels his hands gently close around the curves of her hips and a shiver runs through her as he moves to help her to her feet.

When they are both standing, his hands depart but the feeling of warmth coursing through her stomach at the touch is distracting and it takes her twice as long to find the cupboard with the candles. By the time she does find them, her eyes have adjusted somewhat to the lower light and she can make out the matchbox and has no trouble igniting one of the sticks inside.

She brings the flame to the large cinnamon scented candle and dips it against the wick until it ignites, blowing out the match. She carries the candle over towards where Michael is standing.

“Well done,” he says as he settles back on the sofa and Cathy sits down beside him, putting the candle down on the coffee table between them with the clanging of silverware as she makes a space for it.

They sit in silence a minute before Cathy asks, “Have you ever played truth or dare?”

Michael chuckles, “Not since I was a kid.”

“Kelly made me play it with her the other night.I dared her to go without talking for five minutes.”

“And?”

“She made it to three.”

Michael laughs, “Well then she did quite well I’d say.”

Cathy shakes her head as she reaches for her glass of wine and takes a sip around a wide smile.

“Do you wanna play one round now?”

“Truth or dare?” Cathy looks at Michael with surprise.

“Yeah well there’s nothing else to do in the dark,” he says, realizing the innuendo just as he’s already said it.

Cathy, thankfully shows mercy and doesn’t make the joke.

“Right okay, well you go first,” she says, settling the bottom of her glass on her thigh as she turns toward him.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Michael chews on the inside of his lip as he thinks for a minute, “Alright. What was your first impression when Dave introduced us?”

Cathy’s eyebrows lift in surprise, “God Michael that was 100 years ago. My first impression?”

“Well I mean did you think I was daft? Awkward? Dashingly handsome?”

Cathy turns her head to the side and contemplates as she tries to recall, “Well, I thought you were kind.”

“Kind? Was I that boring?”

“Not boring at all,” Cathy smiles. “Most men I met then were boisterous, Dave included. There was a cockiness to them. They were always putting on a show. You weren’t like that.”

Michael nods with a smile, “Fair enough. Okay your —“

“You were so nice to me that night. Do you remember? I broke the heel on my shoe and Dave had been drinking and had passed out in the arm chair. We were at.... Will or Bill’s house...”

“Darren...”

“Oh right the one up Martindale Lane. Yeah I remember that. Yeah we were out in the garden talking around the fire and you offered to carry me back over the wet grass...”

“I did.”

“And I remember thinking — well I was wearing that short skirt and I thought — ‘I’ll bet he makes a comment or touches my leg or something’ — and you didn’t. Carried me right into the house and set me down and then helped me get Dave into the guest room.”

Michael smiles at her, “Well I’d say that’s called being a decent bloke.”

Cathy looks at him softly for a moment, “Yeah but it meant a lot to me. You just accepted me as one of the group. You looked out for me that night and countless nights after.”

“Well Dave was like my brother and you meant the world to him. It’d be only right that you were an important part of the group and important to... me too.”

Michael looks down briefly, picks up his glass though the beer is almost gone and only a trickle makes it to his mouth.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Cathy thinks about it for a moment then fixes him with a small interested smile. “When have you been the happiest in your life?”

Michael doesn’t look away as he repeats her question back to her, “when was I happiest?”

He taps his fingers on the empty beer glass and looks at the remnants of dinner and then to the way the candle lights Cathy’s face in a fluttering warm glow. Outside the wind rattles the window panes and the rain pats against it in spurts. “Well...” he rubs the back of his neck, “...right now.”

Cathy’s smile slowly falls away and a seriousness blankets the space between them.

“Not when your girls were born?” Cathy suggests after a pause and Michael laughs at that.

“Of course, of course. It was definitely the girls,” he says though there’s a tightness to his smile and it is less authentic.

There’s a loud thud from outside and Cathy jumps up and peers out the drapes in the living room to see what has caused it.

“Might be the bins,” Michael offers.

“You’re probably right. Oh God it’s going to be such a mess tomorrow. That wind is ferocious,” she returns to the sofa and sits back down next to Michael. “The last time the wind got this bad Dave had to—“

It comes out of nowhere as it often does. The ghost of Dave leaks into the room enveloping Cathy in such a flash of sadness that her eyes become muddled with tears and she looks at the floor.

“Oh Cathy,” he says as she sinks forward, holding a hand across her mouth.

It’s all too soon. Gone is the glow of the cinnamon scented candle, the quiet Chinese takeaway, Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant falling in love.

In its place is the hole that Dave left when he didn’t come back from the hospital last month. His old football jersey that’s still at Michael’s cause he left it there one Sunday night after the game. The stain on the carpet where Dave had dropped an entire pot of spaghetti sauce when he’d come to the table to serve it. The dent in the hall where Cathy had slammed her hand so hard when they’d got the final test results back, that she’d almost broken it. Later where she’d slid to the floor and wept, only because Jason was at the hospital with Dave and no one would see that her world was falling apart beneath her.

Michael moves in beside her and slides his arm tenderly around her shoulders. He wouldn’t normally but Cathy is glad he does as she leans into the embrace and lets out the tears she’s been fighting for months on end.

They never talk about that night after the bins blew over. They’ll talk about the Chinese food and how Michael would like to look like John Willoughby. They’ll talk about truth or dare, about Valentines cards, about rain and about the next day when Michael came over and cleared up the drive.

Some things can’t be spoken of openly. Some things stitch a little square in your soul and even though you both know it’s there, it remains hidden from view beneath the lining.

When Cathy thinks about it, years later, it’s as if a whole quilt exists within her, each square stitched by Michael until almost the whole of it, the whole of her, has been repaired.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous requested: I saw someone requested a Cathy & Michael fic and idk if your taking requests but I know that when they’re together and still keeping it secret they sneak around the house when everyone’s there and have quick kisses in the kitchen and always almost get caught but never do (and if they do it’s because Of Michael)

The house is quiet, an indication that everyone has finally gone off to do their own separate things, and Cathy sits in an upstairs window sill, basking in the quiet. Just as she opens her book to the same page she’s read and re-read since arriving, she hears a creek on the stair. She sighs in disappointment, drops her head and readies herself for another inane conversation she has no interest in. 

But it’s not Kelly, or Pauline, or Derek or Reg... but Michael. He notices her book, still open on her lap and lifts a finger to his lips and points towards his room, moving past without a word. But Cathy reaches out, touches his arm to stop him. 

“No, no you can join me if you like,” she says, all previous disappointment gone and replaced by a shy smile.

“Oh I wouldn’t want to get in the way of a good book,” Michael smiles gently to her. “You’ve been reading that same page since we got here.”

She chuckles softly, shakes her head and looks behind him then down the hall in either direction. Seeing no one, she motions him to come closer and she can almost see him flush as he sits down by her feet on the window seat.

His hand settles naturally around her ankle before he realizes it, and he steals it back, making a show of scratching his chin instead.

“Don’t be silly,” Cathy says softly and when he looks at her he can see a twinkle in her eye, can see her teeth catch the side of her lip, “I liked it there.”

Michael can feel his cheeks are red, but he tentatively brings his hand back to her ankle and gently places his fingers against her bare skin.

He makes slow movements with his hand, caressing the line of her calf over the material of her jeans, emboldened by the expression of swelling desire on Cathy’s face as she leans back against the wooden window frame and closes her eyes. 

Michael looks over his shoulder and listens for a moment, making sure they’re alone. All he can hear is the unsteady push and pull of Cathy’s breathing, and he allows himself a moment just to look at her, to admire her in the light of a beautiful spring day, shining through the window glass against her flushed skin. He tickles the space beneath her knee and watches with rapt attention as Cathy’s smile broadens and a slow sigh shivers past her lips. 

“Michael,” she whispers, and it’s so heady and thick with desire that he recalls the night before at his, when she’d said his name in much the same way. The fresh memory immediately flutters his stomach, the goose flesh cascading up his arms and down his neck. 

He leans forward, towards her mouth, his hand caressing the back of her thigh now, his lips seeking hers. She sighs in the space between them, slides her hands up his neck and cants her mouth towards his.

But there’s a sound downstairs. A sharp slam and the quick click of Pauline’s heels on the floor. Michael jumps to standing and Cathy follows suit, dropping her book on the floor.

They both clamor to get it but Michael’s foot hits the side and it falls through the railing, slamming against the floor below.

Cathy laughs but covers her mouth and Michael, whose heart has stopped and restarted, backs up, hand held in such a way that his state of arousal is not so glaringly evident.

“Cathy,” Pauline’s disembodied voice echoes from below, “you’ve dropped your book.”

“Oh?” Cathy calls out, eyes locked with Michael’s as she stifles her laugh.

“Honestly, what did I tell you about leaning things on the bannister?”

Cathy’s eyes move to Michael’s waist, lower and then back, an eyebrow raising and Michael can feel his cheeks grow redder still. He merely points a finger accusatorially at her, and she shakes her head, beaming.

“Cathy-” Pauline’s voice calls up from below, “did you hear me?”

“Ahh yes Pauline....” Cathy answers in distraction, “I’ll be more careful.”

Michael turns, and makes his way towards his pink painted bedroom down the hall and Cathy watches him go. Her fingers tap the glazed wooden bannister and she looks at Michael's door just as it closes, taking a step in its direction.

“Well," Pauline's voice returns, "are you going to come get this then or not?”

“Right, yes of course... straight away,” she answers and then bites her lip and wills herself the strength to turn and head down stairs.


End file.
